HURLEY LAYS OUT THE NEW CAMP
"Want to go 'long?" asked Hurley, the morning after the "bear-cat"
incident, as he and Connie were returning to the office from breakfast
at the cook's camp. "I've got to locate the new camp an' then we'll
blaze her out an' blaze the road so Saginaw can keep the men goin'." The
boy eagerly assented, and a few moments later they started, Hurley
carrying an axe, and Connie with a light hand-axe thrust into his belt.
Turning north, they followed the river. It was slow travelling, for it
was necessary to explore every ravine in search of a spot where a road
crossing could be effected without building a bridge. The spot located,
Hurley would blaze a tree and they would strike out for the next ravine.
"It ain't like we had to build a log road," explained the boss, as he
blazed a point that, to Connie, looked like an impossible crossing.
"Each camp will have its own rollways an' all we need is a tote road
between 'em. Frenchy Lamar can put a team anywhere a cat will go. He's
the best hand with horses on the job, if he is a jumper."
"What's a jumper?" asked Connie.
"You'll find that out fast enough. Jumpin' a man generally means a fight
in the woods--an' I don't blame 'em none, neither. If I was a jumper an'
a man jumped me, he'd have me to lick afterwards--an' if any one jumps a
jumper into hittin' me, he'll have me to lick, too."
When they had proceeded for four or five miles Hurley turned again
toward the river and for two hours or more studied the ground minutely
for a desirable location for the new camp. Up and down the bank, and
back into the woods he paced, noting in his mind every detail of the lay
of the land. "Here'd be the best place for the camp if it wasn't fer
that there sand bar that might raise thunder when we come to bust out
the rollways," he explained, as they sat down to eat their lunch at
midday. "There ain't no good rollway ground for a half a mile below the
bar--an' they ain't no use makin' the men walk any furthur'n what they
have to 'specially at night when they've put in a hard day's work. We'll
drop back an' lay her out below--it ain't quite as level, but it'll save
time an' a lot of man-power."
As Connie ate his lunch he puzzled mightily over Hurley. He had
journeyed from far off Alaska for the purpose of bringing to justice a
man who had swindled him and his partner out of thousands of dollars
worth of timber. His experience with the Mounted had taught him that,
with the possible exception of Notorious Bishop whose consummate nerve
had commanded the respect even of the officers whose business it was to
hunt him down, law-breakers were men who possessed few if any admirable
qualities. Yet here was a man who, Connie was forced to admit, possessed
many such qualities. His first concern seemed to be for the comfort of
his men, and his orders regarding the keeping of the wanagan book showed
that it was his intention to deal with them fairly. His attitude toward
the despicable I. W. W.'s was the attitude that the boy knew would have
been taken by any of the big men of the North whose rugged standards he
had unconsciously adopted as his own. He, himself, had been treated by
the boss with a bluff friendliness--and he knew that, despite Hurley's
blustering gruffness, the men, with few exceptions, liked him. The boy
frankly admitted that had he not known Hurley to be a crook he too would
have liked him.
Luncheon over, the boss arose and lighted his pipe: "Well, 'spose we
just drop back an' lay out the camp, then on the way home we'll line up
the road an' take some of the kinks out of it an' Saginaw can jump the
men into it tomorrow mornin'." They had proceeded but a short distance
when the man pointed to a track in the softer ground of a low swale:
"Deer passed here this mornin'," he observed. "The season opens next
week, an' I expect I won't be back with the crew in time for the fun. If
you'd like to try yer hand at it, yer welcome to my rifle. I'll dig you
out some shells tonight if you remind me to."
"I believe I will have a try at 'em," said Connie, as he examined the
tracks; "there were two deer--a doe, and a half-grown fawn, and there
was a _loup-cervier_ following them--that's why they were hitting for
the river."
Hurley stared at the boy in open-mouthed astonishment: "Looky here, kid,
I thought you said you never worked in the woods before!"
Connie smiled: "I never have, but I've hunted some, up across the line."
"I guess you've hunted _some_, all right," observed the boss, drily; "I
wondered how it come you wasn't petered out that night we come into the
woods. Wherever you've hunted ain't none of my business. When a man's
goin' good, I b'lieve in tellin' him so--same's I b'lieve in tellin' him
good an' plain when he ain't. You've made a good start. Saginaw told me
about what you done to that mouthy cookee. That was all right, fer as it
went. If I'd be'n you I'd a punched his face fer him when I had him down
'til he hollered' 'nough'--but if you wanted to let him off that hain't
none of my business--jest you keep yer eye on him, that's all--he's
dirty. Guess I didn't make no mistake puttin' you in fer clerk--you've
learnt to keep yer eyes open--that's the main thing, an' mebbe it'll
stand you good 'fore this winter's over. There's more'n I. W. W.'s is
the matter with this camp--" The boss stopped abruptly and, eyeing the
boy sharply, repeated his warning of a few days before: "Keep yer mouth
shet. There's me, an' Saginaw, an' Lon Camden--he'll be the scaler, an'
whoever bosses Number Two Camp--Slue Foot Magee, if I can git holt of
him. He was my straw-boss last year. If you've got anythin' to say, say
it to us. Don't never tell nothin' to nobody else about nothin' that's
any 'count--see?"
"You can depend on me for that," answered the boy, and Hurley picked up
his axe.
"Come on, le's git that camp laid out. We won't git nothin' done if we
stand 'round gassin' all day." The two followed down the river to the
point indicated by Hurley where the banks sloped steeply to the water's
edge, well below the long shallow bar that divided the current of the
river into two channels. As they tramped through the timber Connie
puzzled over the words of the boss. Well he knew that there was
something wrong in camp beside the I. W. W.'s. But why should Hurley
speak of it to him? And why should he be pleased at the boy's habit of
observation? "Maybe he thinks I'll throw in with him on the deal," he
thought: "Well, he's got an awful jolt coming to him if he does--but,
things couldn't have broken better for me, at that."
At the top of the steep bank Hurley blazed some trees, and with a heavy
black pencil, printed the letter R in the centre of the flat, white
scars. "That'll show 'em where to clear fer the rollways," he explained,
then, striking straight back from the river for about twenty rods, he
blazed a large tree. Turning at right angles, he proceeded about twenty
five rods parallel with the river bank and made a similar blaze. "That
gives 'em the corners fer the clearin', an' now fer spottin' the
buildin's." Back and forth over the ground went the man, pausing now and
then to blaze a tree and mark it with the initial of the building whose
site it marked. "We don't have to corner these," he explained, "Saginaw
knows how big to build 'em--the trees marks their centre." The sun hung
low when the task was completed. "You strike out for the head of the
nearest ravine," said Hurley, "an' when you come to the tree we blazed
comin' up, you holler. Then I'll blaze the tote road to you, an' you can
slip on to the next one. Straighten her out as much as you can by
holdin' away from the short ravines." Connie was surprised at the
rapidity with which Hurley followed, pausing every few yards to scar a
tree with a single blow of his axe.
The work was completed in the dark and as they emerged onto the clearing
Hurley again regarded the boy with approval: "You done fine, kid. They's
plenty of older hands than you be, that would of had trouble locatin'
them blazes in the night, but you lined right out to 'em like you was
follerin' a string. Come on, we'll go wash up an' see what the cook's
got fer us."
After supper Saginaw Ed received his final instructions, and early next
morning Hurley struck out on foot fer Dogfish Spur. "So long, kid," he
called from the office door. "I left the shells on top of my desk an'
yonder hangs the rifle. I was goin' to give you a few pointers, but from
what I seen yeste'day, I don't guess you need none about huntin'. I
might be back in a week an' it might be two 'cordin' to how long it
takes me to pick up a crew. I've got some men waitin' on me, but I'll
have to rustle up the balance wherever I can git 'em. I told Saginaw he
better move his turkey over here while I'm gone. You'll find Saginaw a
rough-bark piece of timber--but he's sound clean plumb through to the
heart, an' if you don't know it now, before this winter's over yer goin'
to find out that them's the kind to tie to--when you kin find 'em."
Connie gazed after the broad-shouldered form 'til it disappeared from
sight around a bend of the tote road, then he turned to his books with a
puzzled expression. "Either Mike Gillum was wrong, or Hurley's the
biggest bluffer that ever lived," he muttered, "and which ever way it is
I'll know by spring."
Saginaw put his whole crew at work on the tote road. Saplings and brush
were cleared away and thrown to the side. Trees were felled, the larger
ones to be banked on the skidways and later hauled to the rollways to
await the spring break-up, and the smaller ones to be collected and
hauled to the new camp for building material.
Connie's duties were very light and he spent much time upon the new tote
road watching the men with whom he had become a great favourite. Tiring
of that, he would take long tramps through the woods and along the banks
of the numerous little lakes that besprinkled the country, searching for
sign, so that, when the deer season opened he would not have to hunt at
random, but could stalk his game at the watering places.
"Whar's yer gun, sonny?" called out a lanky sawyer as the boy started
upon one of these excursions.
"Hay ain' need no gun," drawled Swede Larson, with a prodigious wink
that distorted one whole side of his face. "Ay tank he gon fer hont some
bear-cat." And the laughter that followed told Connie as he proceeded on
his way, that his handling of Steve had met the universal approval of
the crew.
It was upon his return from this expedition that the boy witnessed an
actual demonstration of the effect of sudden suggestion upon a jumper.
Frenchy Lamar pulled his team to the side of the roadway and drew his
watch from his pocket. At the same time, Pierce, one of the I. W. W.
suspects, slipped up behind him and bringing the flat of his hand down
upon Frenchy's shoulder, cried: "_throw it_." Frenchy threw it, and the
watch dropped with a jangle of glass and useless wheels at the foot of a
tree. The next instant Frenchy whirled upon his tormentor with a snarl.
The man, who had no stomach for an open fight, turned to run but the
Frenchman was too quick for him. The other two I. W. W.'s started to
their pal's assistance but were halted abruptly, and none too gently by
other members of the crew. "Fight!" "Fight!" The cry was taken up by
those nearby and all within hearing rushed gleefully to the spot. The
teamster was popular among the men and he fought amid cries of advice
and encouragement: "Soak 'im good, Frenchy!" "Don't let 'im holler
''nough' till he's down!"
The combat was short, but very decisive. Many years' experience in the
lumber woods had taught Frenchy the art of self-defence by force of
fist--not, perhaps, the most exalted form of asserting a right nor of
avenging a wrong--but, in the rougher walks of life, the most thoroughly
practical, and the most honourable. So, when the teamster returned to
his horses a few minutes later, it was to leave Pierce whimpering upon
the ground nursing a badly swollen and rapidly purpling eye, the while
he muttered incoherent threats of dire vengeance.